Blood and Shadows
by xxx-DaydreamBeliever-xxx
Summary: OneShot. Something has been stalking the streets of Paris. Something that likes darkness, and blood.


It was dark. Very dark. Inky blackness seemed to seep into every surface, turning even familiar settings into foreboding pools of shadow. Hurrying down an alleyway, Celeste stopped for breath, clutching a shawl round herself and squinting towards the path ahead. Her breathing quickened as the shadows around her seemed to shift, twisting themselves into cruel shapes. Backing against a wall, she cast wildly around to try and get her bearings.

Suddenly, a hand closed around her mouth, stifling her petrified scream. Twisting madly to try and free herself, she kicked out at her captor with fury and terror.

"Celeste! _Ma petite_, please stop struggling!"

Chest heaving, she turned towards the young man holding her, who dropped his hand from her mouth. His dark hair fell over his brow as he smiled at her.

"Marcelin!" she squeaked, breathless. "Don't do that to me! I almost fainted with the shock!"

He gave a soft laugh and slipped an arm around her waist, "Celeste, my darling, I was hoping you'd be pleased to see me."

"Well, I am, of course." she fluttered nervously. "It's just late, and I've heard some terrible stories lately…"

"What sort of stories?" he asked sharply. His voice, formerly warm and gentle, now had a cold edge. "What have you heard, Celeste?"

"Just some things that have been happening recently." she said warily. "Rumours, you know… attacks on girls… horrid things, Marcelin. Bite marks on their necks, like the girl from Rue de la Perle. Blood everywhere… it's been happening around here, they say. The girls, they say it's… vampires." She gave a nervous, tittering laugh.

"I never thought you'd be one to believe silly rumours, _ma chérie._" He smiled and pressed his face to her hair. "I'm here now, anyway. You don't believe in vampires, do you?"

"No…" she smiled dreamily as his warm breath ruffled her hair, "… it's nonsense."

He took her hand and began kissing her neck, wrapping his arm further round her middle as he pulled her towards him. She gasped and tensed, then relaxed. He lifted her chin and kissed her more firmly, sliding his hands up and caressing her hair as she gripped him with slender fingers.

She gasped and pulled away suddenly, lifting a hand to her mouth. "Marcelin…" A trickle of blood ran through her fingers.

"Have I hurt you, Celeste?" His voice was concerned, but had an undercurrent of excitement that caused her to look up sharply.

"It is just my lip. It's bleeding…"

He took her hand away and stared at the drop of blood clinging to her fingers. "Oh dear, my darling, let me see…" He moved forward as if to inspect her cut, but instead grabbed her roughly again and kissed her a second time. She felt it again, a sharp prick on her lip.

"Marcelin, it's _you_…"

She stared as she stepped backwards. His eyes, cold and unforgiving, gazed back from under dark lashes.

"Come, _ma chérie_," he whispered, pressing himself close "You shall enjoy it. On some level." His mouth twisted into a cruel smile. "I promise."

She was frozen with shock. The curl of his bloodstained lip revealed the curve of a sharp white canine. She only saw it for a moment before he was bearing down on her. A cry like a snarl escaped him as his mouth found her neck.

"Now do you believe in vampires?" he hissed in her ear. Ignoring her breathless cries of terror, he wrapped a hand in her hair and wrenched her head backwards, exposing her smooth white throat to the darkness.

ooooooo

Julien Enjolras sat up, rubbing his head. "I think we're finished here."

The rest of Les Amis nodded and began packing away the papers from the table. All except Luc Grantaire, who cried "I am only just beginning! Another wine, I think."

"We should be heading back now, anyway." Bossuet tapped Christophe Joly on the shoulder and he rose.

"Me too." Etienne Combeferre sighed, "I have a term paper due for tomorrow, and my professor is most unforgiving concerning deadlines."

"What about you, Marcelin?" rasped Grantaire, setting his wineglass down after draining it in a single swallow. "Going home, with the night so young?"

Marcelin Courfeyrac grinned, "Not a chance. I've still got a few hours of energy left." He got up and stretched. "The streets of Paris are just awakening."

His dark eyes shone as he watched his young companions take their leave. They would understand soon enough. The darkness had its own charms. Ones which he had only just begun to appreciate.

He caught up with Jean Prouvaire at the door. "_Mon ami_, let me show you something."

"Oh, Marcelin…" Prouvaire glanced distractedly over his shoulder, "I was going to go home. It's late…"

"Nonsense!" Courfeyrac cried, pulling him away. They left the friendly café lights behind and were soon walking in a profound blackness.

"Come," whispered Courfeyrac, "I shall show you what the darkness can do."

Black and red mingled in the shadows. No-one heard the scream.


End file.
